


Natasha knows best

by moon_hedgehog



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, Clint Barton is a Mess, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Humor, Multi, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark is not helping at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 16:52:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13104453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_hedgehog/pseuds/moon_hedgehog
Summary: Natasha knows how to kill bad guys within a second; how to cook this diabolical russian food with a grace of ballerina; of course she knows the best about relationships._Or Clint just wants to get his boyfriend back, and Natasha somehow gets caught in this mess.





	Natasha knows best

**Author's Note:**

> maybe I should create a series about these guys or something.  
> _  
> or I have zero holiday mood, so I write some strange humor.

Clint measured the scientist with a distrustful glance and snorted. Not that he didn’t trust Tony (he didn’t), just all of his brilliant ideas about arranging Avengers’s personal life usually ended… uncommonly. Now he proposed some absolutely uncommonly balderdash.

“You’re offering me to bring Loki figurines of himself, made by his fans?”

Stark shrugged innocently.

“What’s wrong with that? I’m sure he’ll like it and he’ll forgive you right away.”

“I’m sure he’ll kill me right away,” Clint grumbled and shuddered. If Stark thought that joking with a God of jokes is a good idea, he just didn’t know him well enough. But Barton had known God much better, and one thought of what he can do with him for such “present”… threw him into the abyss of horror.

Noticing the frightened expression on the archer’s face, Iron Man could not stand it and grinned widely.

“Come on, he will be glad that he has so many fans! Next time, if he’ll want to take over the Earth, he mustn’t even try! It will be presented on a silver platter.”

Hawkeye met his words with a gloomy look.

“Oh, get away with you!” Tony waved him off, pouting. “You screwed my whole head with this “oh, we had a fight, oh, he mad at me”. And you asking _me_ what to do now! Like do I look like a man who knows what to do if your boyfriend is unstab- OUCH!”

Damn. After all, it was Clint Barton – one of the best S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. And the best agents do not miss. Tony sniffed deafly, spitting from snow-white feathers that had flown out from the pillow that had hit him clearly in the face.

“What do you want from me?” the billionaire whined, mournfully rolling his eyes. “You’d better go to Natasha. She knows better, surely will tell you something. Leave me at last alone, old woman, I’m already being sad because of you!”

To the next pillow, he had been ready.

 

So Clint asked Fury and got the job with Natasha. They were sent somewhere to God’s forgotten slums of India, where the terrorist group, obviously, terrorized local and non-local residents – in general, everything as usual. At the first day, after a major shootout and no less major drinking party (“let’s remember Budapest, and we haven’t seen each other for a long time”), Barton threw everything that lay on his soul to his partner. The partner encouragingly patted him on the shoulder, periodically hiccuped, and bitterly sighed in response to his words. If Clint could have sighed as bitterly as she, he would have taken advantage of this ability without delay. Perhaps then God of Trickery-and-other-devilry wouldn’t have kicked him out of the house. Though, who knows.

The next day, trying to sober up from a general hangover in a cooperative spirit, Natasha and Clint talked to each other more thoroughly. It turned out – at least after the Russian spy capitally horselaughed – that Natalia did not mind helping her friend. And she even has a few ideas, really. If Hawkeye is ready, they can start to win Loki tomorrow. Oh wait, tomorrow they’ll still be here. Then the day after tomorrow, or after the day after tomorrow, well, or when they will finally return home.

 

“The way to every man’s heart, even if he is a God, lies through three things...”

Romanov started somehow in the morning when the agents had returned to New York and she had to shelter Clint in her apartment. Apart from him, this place also inhabited Barnes, who cast suspicious glances at the archer, but faded faster than Clint could even say him the banal “hello”. He was altogether strange, this Winter Soldier. Hawkeye did not like him, but to argue with Natalia’s tastes was probably more trouble than its worth.

“First is the stomach.”

Clint blinked – he was sitting in front of his new mentor, legs crossed and bowed his head like a bird.

“C’mon, Nat, he doesn’t eat much at all. Seriously, he can do without food for three days! Three freaking days!”

The spy blinked as well, but judging by her stare, she did not intend to give up so simply.

“He must have a favorite dish.”

“I doubt it...”

“Well, at least something! Think!”

The agent snorted irritably, but – what else could he do? - started to think. After a while, he narrowed his eyes uncertainly and muttered barely audible:

“Coffee.”

“Great!” Natasha loudly and resolutely clapped her hands. “Coffee! And what?”

To this, Agent Barton could only answer her with a confused look.

Natalia raised an eyebrow, resting her hands on her sides.

“What sort of?”

“...”

“Mark?”

“...”

“Seriously, Clint, you’ve been living with him for a year now and you don’t know what kind of coffee he’s drinking?” surprise in her voice did not have to be faked, rather Romanov was even shocked.

“Where from?” snapped Hawkeye, rocking nervously from side to side. “At home I had mine; but he has his own, for sure.”

“For sure?!”

Barton bit his lip thoughtfully.

“Although it tastes like mine...”

“Well, maybe because it’s yours?” Natasha asked with a deadpanned expression on her face. But Clint only raised his puppy, “I’m not sure of anything” eyes, and Romanov had to retreat. “Oh, forget it.”

 

“The second is the head.”

Autumn in New York was warm this time. Clint and Natasha were strolling in the central park; the latter, surely, had tried to fill the mind of her pupil with new knowledge. The pupil was filled weakly and generally behaved as if the whole weight of life on the planet suddenly settled in his mind. It’s Goddrawal – Natasha thought. He urgently needs to Loki.

“Head? Are you asking me to buy him a crossword or what?” Muttered Barton, tightly wrapping in his jacket.

The Black Widow friendly poked him in his side and grinned.

“It hardly would work in your case. Unless it some ancient alien crossword, with a deadly curse at any wrong letter.”

Hawkeye rubbed his bruised side (even playfully, Romanov beat accurately) and frowned harder.

“Maybe Thor will get it somewhere, but unlikely he’ll give it to me, because “I’m just a mortal”, you know,” the archer squinted irritably as if this topic had concretely pissed him. Natalia suspected that it had.

“Clint, I’m not serious,” the spy sighed wearily, realizing that this idea wouldn’t bring him to no good. “You know, just forget it.”

 

“And the third one?”

Natasha even chocked on hearing this innocent question. Grasping at the table’s edge and coughing, the spy took a look over her shoulder and found there – of course! - Agent Barton. Agent Barton, who was hanging out in her flat for a week and obviously was not going to move out. Romanov protested: sometimes even several times a day but scarcely had seen Clint’s disconsolate face, waved her hand and forgave all of his sins. It’s not his fault that he has nowhere to live, right? Although wait, that’s he who angered Loki, so technically… But from such thoughts Natasha was feeling dizzy, so she just sighed, washing down her sighs with glasses of vodka.

“Third what?”

“Thing,” Hawkeye’s eyes widened. “The way to every man’s heart.”

Black Widow groaned inwardly. No, he’s just like a child, honestly. Hell, even Bucky would’ve figured something out for all that time.

Of course partially this messiness was her fault, – she didn’t have to help! - but she just wanted to settle her friend’s crazy life. At least somehow. Now this friend clung to her neck.

“Clint!” Natasha folded her hands in a prayerful gesture. “Clint, just go and ask his forgiveness, that’s all!”

“But-”

“No buts” Tasha slammed an unfinished cup of coffee on the table. “You either go to Loki and ask for forgiveness – immediately! - or move to Stark’s tower! I can’t take it anymore!”

“But what should I _do_?” Hawkeye whined again. “What should I _say_?”

Black Widow nervously rubbed her temples and took a deep breath.

“Buy him sweets, flowers, kittens, whatever! Tomorrow you shouldn’t be here! Scat!”

 

To be honest, Natasha herself was ready to pray Loki, so that he took back homeless Barton. She kicked him out of her apartment, as promised, and the archer had to pitch his tent in Stark’s residence. The problem was that Tony miraculously managed to drag Bruce to his place; so they spent days and nights at the labs, leaving Barton at his own discretion. And this discretion wasn’t very well – Romanov would’ve bravely put 20 bucks on it. So now, at the meetings in the Avengers headquarter, the heart of this kind woman was aching at the sight of her sleepy and disheveled fellowman. He still hasn’t met with Loki – but he temporarily fled to Asgard, helping Thor to appease _another_ political conflict. He didn’t, of course, leave any note; but he did open his apartment for Clint, removing one and a thousand magical barriers. Hawkeye did not take advantage of this generous gesture, continuing to engage in self-reproach in his little room in the Tower.

Natasha thought that he’s an idiot. Also, she felt sorry for him. As much as possible, she tried to drag kilograms of mandarins, apples and other charms of life to this unlucky archer. Clint had eaten it all and Natasha was even more sorry for him – with such treatment, he will turn into herbivorous by the winter.

 

A week later, Loki returned to Midgard and Clint suddenly disappeared. Natalia’s first suspicions woke up.

A couple of days later, a shopping center in Hong Kong suddenly exploded, taking with this the lives of terrorists, entrenched there. Her suspicions intensified.

And three days later, the Paris journalists filmed an amazing view: black ravens were flying peacefully over the Eiffel Tower, piercing the heart-shaped clouds above. And then the Black Widow was convinced.

They kissed and made up. And apparently made a honeymoon, in addition to everything else.

 

“Nat, so what’s the third thing?”

Tony grinned smugly and immediately dodged from the orange in his direction.

Natasha chuckled.

“Love. But you can hardly understand what it is.”

To this, Stark only strangely squinted at Bruce, who was passionately typing something on the laptop, not paying any attention to the world around him.

“Maybe, Nat, maybe...”


End file.
